


You're The Top

by blessedthrice



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Drabble, Erwin and Levi, Ficlet, M/M, eruri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 07:06:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6944755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessedthrice/pseuds/blessedthrice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Levi gets successfully drunk at a capital party, and learns something about his commander he didn't know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're The Top

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dykejonze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dykejonze/gifts).



> from a prompt sent to me by my gf, dykejonze
> 
> inspired by this tune: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=njzqv5gWt6k

The party was, as far as parties went, completely unenthralling. Levi had never been the type to enjoy a get together, especially not the sort of get together with hundreds of glamorous somebodies and a full smorgasbord of questionable hors d'oeuvres. He liked the wine, he supposed. Endless barrels, being pumped into fountains which crashed down in waves of red and white. He could do either, really, he wasn’t particular about color–but tonight he’d been sweet on the grigio and for once he was almost feeling it–a faint buzz around his ears and a flush that had begun to sweep up his neck and onto his cheeks. He’d loosened his cravat considerably, although no one had paid him much mind.

That was Erwin’s doing. Through the powers of diplomacy, he had made it known in no uncertain terms years ago that Levi was not the sort who enjoyed small talk, or really, any talk at all. Most of the partygoers these days left him alone, if not because Erwin had suggested it then because they’d learned through experience that Levi had nothing to say on the subject of tax reforms or home renovations or government happenings. Nothing nice, anyway. The way to Lance Corporal Levi Ackerman’s heart was to steer mightily clear of it altogether, and that was something almost everyone in Sina could agree upon, even if they couldn’t agree on much else.

Levi had spent most of this particular party wandering around the home of whoever was putting on the shindig, touching their things and checking for dust. The house was large, and immaculate, and had a library the size of the entire barracks. He’d occupied himself in there for hours, now, keeping busy the one waiter who’d noticed he’d wandered off, and who kept enthusiastically returning to refill his wine glass.

“Anything else I can get for you, Lance Corporal? An hors d'oeuvres, perhaps?”

The long look Levi gave him was enough to send anyone running, even the strongest willed members of the Corps. A small smirk tugged at the Captain’s lips at the sound of retreat, and a clatter in the hall that suggested a dropped serving tray. Served him right–Levi would rather eat shit off the ground than take his chances with a cream-cheese stuffed crab roll, or whatever they were serving in there.

A dozen glasses deep, and halfway through a book precariously titled _A Brief History of Button Making_ , Levi found his attention drawn elsewhere. He was a quarter of the way through a section titled: Eyelets and Snap Fastenings when a sort of music drifted in through the closed doors. It wasn’t the typical orchestrated wailing that usually drove him to near insanity–it was something warmer, pleasant. Organic, even. He tossed the book on a side table, scooping up his wine glass and stumbling (gracefully, of course) towards the great double doors. The long hallway back to the ballroom was dimly lit and gloriously empty, and he was debating returning to the library to finish that book and maybe have a few more top-offs of white wine, when a voice, distinctly human, tickled his eardrum.

Oh great, one of those pretentious, dim-witted, sycophants was putting on a show for everyone. It was just like those snobs to want to show off, always glitzing around in jewels and furs and complaining about the heat when there were whole undergrounds full of starving, freezing, crippled children, clawing desperately towards the sun. Pathetic. He had to get a look for himself.

He hurried towards the ballroom, slipping in through a crack in the door to the back. The entire party, it seemed, had gathered around a white grand piano, and were laughing and cooing loudly. He stalked over towards them, irritated for once by his stature. Even standing on his tip-toes he could hardly see over the shoulders of some of these capital women, in their froofy high heels and absurd hair pieces.

There was no way around it, he’d have to barrel through. Steadying himself decisively, he knocked back the remainder of his wine and abandoned his glass on a tray that was breezing by behind him. Then, using his shoulder to lead, he began pushing his way through the crowd, grumbling a lackluster sorry when he stepped on someone’s toes. As he neared the center of the crowd, Levi could make out some light-hearted lyrics and a few piano riffs. His hair prickled at the neck. The voice was lovely, thick and warm like syrup. It was familiar, too, like something he’d heard before in a dream–but of course he was being tragically sentimental, he never dreamed of singing or dancing or frivolity of any sort. It wasn’t practical. He blamed it on the wine, and burst through into the space before the piano panting heavily and painfully curious.

If he’d been holding a wine glass, he might have dropped it. Erwin, looking extremely fine in the white, well-tailored suit Levi had helped him into not four hours ago, was seated at a white grand piano, fingers perched over the keys and a sanguine smile on his face. There was a long cigarette hanging from one of his massive hands, smoke curling up around him like blood in water. An abandoned glass of wine sat on top of the instrument, sweating condensation into a pool that had begun to roll over the side and onto the rug. A single strand of blonde hair had come loose from his pomp, and lay in a delectable curl on his forehead. Levi had to stop himself from physically pushing it away, a gesture of affection he’d rather die than share with these miserly bastards in the capital. His heart skipped a beat.

As Levi struggled to piece together the image into a sensible thought, Erwin’s lips came apart, releasing a sound that nearly stopped Levi’s heart beating altogether. It was the sweetest, smoothest, most endearing sound he’d ever heard–a beautiful string of notes that made his blood hot and his stomach ache. Suddenly, it occurred to him why he came to these sorts of events, even if he hated them. No matter how miserable they became, he always learned something new about the man he called Commander. Those treasures were priceless, worth every moment of physical suffering.

At that moment, Erwin’s warm blue eyes flicked up to meet his, and he belted out another line of some song which must have been amusing, Levi guessed, from the way his skin itched with the vibrations of laughter all around him. He blanched, darting back into the crowd and shoving his way forcefully through and out the other side. He practically sprinted from the ballroom, grateful for once for his stature, because no one seemed to notice him or to care.

He collapsed against the wall in the dark hallway, gasping for air, clutching his middle as if someone had punched him. He could feel the red mask of blush across his cheeks, and his mind reeled, punctuated by a singular thought:

_You didn’t fucking tell me you could sing._


End file.
